06-02-2018, 06:53 PM
The hours after the boy’s awakening would blur by seamlessly, requiring unfaltering willpower to keep up with what was going on. His mind seemed to be nearly detached from the rest of his body. When the newer prime would arrive late to the task the odd pair had been working on, the proud Tarutaru would take the reigns. The Arrancar would say very little if at all, his eyes focused on the waddling Shantatto as she led him through the morning crowds. He could hear them gasp as they all flocked towards the smoldering ruins Serraph and Shantotto had left in their wake. No doubt the guardsmen would have their hands full keeping the worried masses away from the surveyors that arrived.
Serraph’s right hand would tighten around the bleached bone crown in his grasp. With no memory of a certain part of the night prior, he could easily be swept by his own urge to speculate by the few clues left behind of his blackout. Such a thing would bare no fruit here in the hot dusty streets. His chest throbbed with phantom pain, but he knew the wounds he was given the days prior had been long since healed.
As the two trailed through the winding streets and alleyways, he’d be stricken by a ray of the Nippurian sun. The intensity of the light proved too uncomfortable. His face grimaced, his eyes calmly narrowing on the Tarutaru before him. Wordlessly he held out his hand, the familiar rainbow light taking form in the palm of his hand. The glowing mass of sparking light would lengthen, the shape becoming clearer and clearer as time continued before fading back into the object Serraph created. The familiar umbrella’s weight was one of the last things attributed to the object then the bleached bone grip of its handle. He’d expand the pale silk canopy, bringing its width to bear over his head, veiling his body in its comforting shadow.
It was at this point that he’d realize that he’d nearly lost the pint sized lady amidst the crowd. His grey eyes glanced to and fro among the excited crowd tracking the little lady along. Little did he realize that this crowd circled a certain Syntech tent outside the walls of the great city, the same tent Shatotto led him to. The mood of the crowd enticed the former Espada. The one in which the pair had wandered from was one of worry and shock while this one expressed a general aura of hype and euphoria.
Serraph would then find himself following the line leading into the rather large tent. His curious nature was prominent, he would gladly wait to see what all the excitement in the air was about. The line wasn’t terribly long but he did catch the visage of many familiar faces. Shantotto had just entered. His eyes glanced around behind him noticing a towering man clad in flawless golden armor. Serraph paused and glanced up at him subtly, recognizing the man’s features of his own King. Gilgamesh stood there, his arms crossed in impatience waiting for his turn.
Despite his relative proximity Serraph dared not speak and would tilt his umbrella slightly to conceal his features. Down into the dust beneath their feet his gaze fell, his teeth biting hard into into his lower lip to force himself into silence. He’d step out of the line as naturally as he could, keeping his umbrella tilted in a manner to shield his features from the king and took the position behind him. The king merely stepped forward, paying no mind to the Arrancar as he gave up his spot to him. A servant he was of the Golden King, yet he couldn’t yet bring himself to speak to him yet. His accomplishments weren’t quite up to the level worthy of being recognized by the Great Gilgamesh.
Being in the presence of the King was a bit overbearing. He was immaculate and pure while Serraph stood not even fully clothed. He’d pause once more, his mind lingering on his half nakedness. Quickly he’d summon himself a simple, unadorned hempen robe to cover his features. The time it took to do this didn’t seem very significant, but his focus took longer than he’d imagine. His turn had come.
He was led inside the tent and so Serraph collapsed the umbrella hiding the Arrancar from the wrathful sun. A woman with a data pad stood before him, her gaze tired but questioning the more she looked over him.
“Alright little lady, I am unfortunately forced to inform you that entering this event will likely result in a sudden demise, either subtle or spontaneous, as well as other ailments that will follow you into the distant future.”, the woman said, handing him the pad and a steel stylus. He’d accept it, the stylus fitting perfectly within his fingers. “Sign here, please, letting us know-”
“That I cannot sue Syntech for personal or bodily damage during the event?”, Serraph would finish, his eyes glancing up curiously at the woman, offering back the pad and stylus once it had been signed.
She’d purse her lips, biting back a rather distasteful remark. She’d slide a finger across the screen’s surface. “I need your name, miss.”
The woman had perceived Serraph as female. He wasn’t aware of the feminine qualities her perhaps possessed, but he didn’t bring the issue up. He merely smiled and returned the woman’s look. “Serraph Quarrere”, he spoke, slowly sounding out the syllables for the woman. He’d rather not have to repeat himself.
“Titles or aliases?”
“Former Octava Espada. Humble Servant of King Gilgamesh”, he’d answer, nearly shaking in genuine enthusiasm. His hand tightened around the hilt of his umbrella before driving it against the floor of the tent.
“Prime?”
“Indeed, Madam.
“ Residence?”
“Nippur”, he’d answer smartly. He’d only been here a day or so, but this place will be his home for the foreseeable future.
“Race?”
He’d hesitate not because of his inability to answer, but of the necessity. He doubted that others would know of his race, but he may gain hostility or disdain from those who do. “Arrancar”
“Gender?”, she’d ask causing Serraph to glance away momentarily in thought.
“Male.”
The answer brought out a confused look not just of the interviewer, but of those within hearing distance. The amount of eyes upon him gave him a feeling of uneasiness in his gut. Thankfully she’d clear her throat and move onto the next question.
“Age?”
“94, likely older”, he’d state casually, earning another set of strange looks upon him.
The woman broke her stare to write down a few more notes, filling in other questions with information inferred from their conversation.
“That’ll be all. If you’d step this way, we like to get a short video of each contestant.”
Serraph would nod and walk in the direction directed but stopped short before turning and bowing his head slightly toward the interviewer. “Thank you for you time, madam”, he’d say, the woman waving her hand dismissively to him.
“Don’t thank me. If you’d excuse me I have others to interview”
He’d nod and continue through the door way in which another employee, this one adjusting his camera and the like, preparing it for the footage he was about to take. “Stand right there, miss, and do something or say something… just make it brief”
He’d nod and wait for the man to return his nod before continuing. Serraph’s hands would clasp the other securely in front of him, his eyes looking deep into the lens of the camera. He’d smile softly, his head cocked slightly to the side.
“The Son of Old Uruk, God of the Golden Sands, King of Nippur will bathe you all in the shimmering light of his majesty. Prepare thyself as His Will will not falter here.", he’d speak, his tone soft and clear. His accomplishments were not worth mentioning here, but his King did hold value in merit. The man would wave him on, motioning to step through the next doorway.
Serraph’s right hand would tighten around the bleached bone crown in his grasp. With no memory of a certain part of the night prior, he could easily be swept by his own urge to speculate by the few clues left behind of his blackout. Such a thing would bare no fruit here in the hot dusty streets. His chest throbbed with phantom pain, but he knew the wounds he was given the days prior had been long since healed.
As the two trailed through the winding streets and alleyways, he’d be stricken by a ray of the Nippurian sun. The intensity of the light proved too uncomfortable. His face grimaced, his eyes calmly narrowing on the Tarutaru before him. Wordlessly he held out his hand, the familiar rainbow light taking form in the palm of his hand. The glowing mass of sparking light would lengthen, the shape becoming clearer and clearer as time continued before fading back into the object Serraph created. The familiar umbrella’s weight was one of the last things attributed to the object then the bleached bone grip of its handle. He’d expand the pale silk canopy, bringing its width to bear over his head, veiling his body in its comforting shadow.
It was at this point that he’d realize that he’d nearly lost the pint sized lady amidst the crowd. His grey eyes glanced to and fro among the excited crowd tracking the little lady along. Little did he realize that this crowd circled a certain Syntech tent outside the walls of the great city, the same tent Shatotto led him to. The mood of the crowd enticed the former Espada. The one in which the pair had wandered from was one of worry and shock while this one expressed a general aura of hype and euphoria.
Serraph would then find himself following the line leading into the rather large tent. His curious nature was prominent, he would gladly wait to see what all the excitement in the air was about. The line wasn’t terribly long but he did catch the visage of many familiar faces. Shantotto had just entered. His eyes glanced around behind him noticing a towering man clad in flawless golden armor. Serraph paused and glanced up at him subtly, recognizing the man’s features of his own King. Gilgamesh stood there, his arms crossed in impatience waiting for his turn.
Despite his relative proximity Serraph dared not speak and would tilt his umbrella slightly to conceal his features. Down into the dust beneath their feet his gaze fell, his teeth biting hard into into his lower lip to force himself into silence. He’d step out of the line as naturally as he could, keeping his umbrella tilted in a manner to shield his features from the king and took the position behind him. The king merely stepped forward, paying no mind to the Arrancar as he gave up his spot to him. A servant he was of the Golden King, yet he couldn’t yet bring himself to speak to him yet. His accomplishments weren’t quite up to the level worthy of being recognized by the Great Gilgamesh.
Being in the presence of the King was a bit overbearing. He was immaculate and pure while Serraph stood not even fully clothed. He’d pause once more, his mind lingering on his half nakedness. Quickly he’d summon himself a simple, unadorned hempen robe to cover his features. The time it took to do this didn’t seem very significant, but his focus took longer than he’d imagine. His turn had come.
He was led inside the tent and so Serraph collapsed the umbrella hiding the Arrancar from the wrathful sun. A woman with a data pad stood before him, her gaze tired but questioning the more she looked over him.
“Alright little lady, I am unfortunately forced to inform you that entering this event will likely result in a sudden demise, either subtle or spontaneous, as well as other ailments that will follow you into the distant future.”, the woman said, handing him the pad and a steel stylus. He’d accept it, the stylus fitting perfectly within his fingers. “Sign here, please, letting us know-”
“That I cannot sue Syntech for personal or bodily damage during the event?”, Serraph would finish, his eyes glancing up curiously at the woman, offering back the pad and stylus once it had been signed.
She’d purse her lips, biting back a rather distasteful remark. She’d slide a finger across the screen’s surface. “I need your name, miss.”
The woman had perceived Serraph as female. He wasn’t aware of the feminine qualities her perhaps possessed, but he didn’t bring the issue up. He merely smiled and returned the woman’s look. “Serraph Quarrere”, he spoke, slowly sounding out the syllables for the woman. He’d rather not have to repeat himself.
“Titles or aliases?”
“Former Octava Espada. Humble Servant of King Gilgamesh”, he’d answer, nearly shaking in genuine enthusiasm. His hand tightened around the hilt of his umbrella before driving it against the floor of the tent.
“Prime?”
“Indeed, Madam.
“ Residence?”
“Nippur”, he’d answer smartly. He’d only been here a day or so, but this place will be his home for the foreseeable future.
“Race?”
He’d hesitate not because of his inability to answer, but of the necessity. He doubted that others would know of his race, but he may gain hostility or disdain from those who do. “Arrancar”
“Gender?”, she’d ask causing Serraph to glance away momentarily in thought.
“Male.”
The answer brought out a confused look not just of the interviewer, but of those within hearing distance. The amount of eyes upon him gave him a feeling of uneasiness in his gut. Thankfully she’d clear her throat and move onto the next question.
“Age?”
“94, likely older”, he’d state casually, earning another set of strange looks upon him.
The woman broke her stare to write down a few more notes, filling in other questions with information inferred from their conversation.
“That’ll be all. If you’d step this way, we like to get a short video of each contestant.”
Serraph would nod and walk in the direction directed but stopped short before turning and bowing his head slightly toward the interviewer. “Thank you for you time, madam”, he’d say, the woman waving her hand dismissively to him.
“Don’t thank me. If you’d excuse me I have others to interview”
He’d nod and continue through the door way in which another employee, this one adjusting his camera and the like, preparing it for the footage he was about to take. “Stand right there, miss, and do something or say something… just make it brief”
He’d nod and wait for the man to return his nod before continuing. Serraph’s hands would clasp the other securely in front of him, his eyes looking deep into the lens of the camera. He’d smile softly, his head cocked slightly to the side.
“The Son of Old Uruk, God of the Golden Sands, King of Nippur will bathe you all in the shimmering light of his majesty. Prepare thyself as His Will will not falter here.", he’d speak, his tone soft and clear. His accomplishments were not worth mentioning here, but his King did hold value in merit. The man would wave him on, motioning to step through the next doorway.
"Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the presence of my Lord. He is sifting through the treasures in which his Gates of Wrath does store. He lets loose the righteous vengeance of his terrible swift swords. Gilgemesh has returned!"